Friday, March 28, 2014

Author Joan Barbara Simon gives us a stark yet poetic glimpse of Gertrude's reality in today's "eggcerpt exchange" from her family saga set in the 1950s & 1960s.

Long Time Walk on Water
by Joan Simon

An account of the black immigrant experience jostling to find its place among the white working class. A tale of how the humble live whilst waiting for their dreams to come true. A virtuoso performance in which the protagonists slip in and out of names like garments to the same measure that Time shifts like the plates of the earth, Long Time Walk on Water is, above all, an unforgettable love story: the story of a mother’s love and the price her family must pay for generations to come.

This Excerpt takes place in 1950's Jamaica:

Gertrude hauled her purchases home along the long, well-known dirt road. She kept as close as she could to the edge, sometimes having to pick her way through the discarded rubbish strewn along the way; to step past the rusting Coca-cola cans or the squashed Red Stripe. Boxes and wrappers bleached by the sun skirted the road with their dry leaves or else formed a grey mash after the rains had fallen. Every now and then, a tree cast its shade thoughtfully over the villagers on foot with their heavy bags, their chickens hanging upside down clucking away at a nervous premonition, or the children who grew tired along the way and tried to play up. The villagers on foot. Weren´t they all. The sun lashed down on Gertrude as she stopped, put her bags down for a fraction, changed them over and picked them up again. She wished that for once, just for once, someone else would put this hour-and-a-quarter stretch behind them. Two strapping brothers, but it was always her. They´d lie around doing nothing, sit back with a beer in the hand or else be off gallivanting somewhere whilst she, she had to work like a horse for them. Buy and fetch and carry and cook. Wash and iron. Sweep and wipe. Polish and pluck and peel. And there was no use protesting. She was her mother´s only girl. Their father had upped and left as they all did sooner or later, having been brought up with very little respect for their female counterpart, and immune to the notion of responsibility. And if by some chance you found yourself with one of the good ones, you´d have to beat the other women away with a stick and plague yourself daily with the thought that today someone else might have won him to her. So you question and you dig for secrets and sooner or later he can´t stand it anymore so he ups and goes anyway. Menfolk. Sought and coveted and pampered and loved. Attacked and hated and forgiven. Menfolk. Soft as a raw egg and no woman will respect you. Hard as a stone, you´ll find those who like it, but every woman - every head in a scarf, every heart in a chest, every bottom in a tight skirt - was on the lookout for a piece of toast - hot and rough but melting in your mouth. Toast, golden brown, coated with a spoonful of honey to run down the side and stick to your fingers... Menfolk. Laugh, flirt, drink beer. Spit. Strut. Slap. Sing. Fall into a chair and wait for dinner. Pull you close. Touch your breasts. Ride you. Love you. Leave you. Need you. Menfolk. What else was there to do but to resign to them, yield up one´s flesh and string together the precious happy moments, like pearls; resign and yield whilst you still could, and afterwards to collect your due in the perfumed balm of sisterhood.

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Ashley York takes over the blog today to share her Medieval Scottish historical romance, “The Bruised Thistle” – part of the Eggcerpt Exchange Fun.
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Blurb:

Iseabail MacNaughton, the orphaned daughter of a Scottish laird, is forced to flee her home and seek assistance against her lecherous uncle, who has usurped her family’s land. When she meets Seumas, a strong and valiant mercenary, she cannot help wondering if he could be the one to stand with her against her uncle. But with a price on her head and enemies on all sides, her trust is not something she can afford to give lightly…

Seumas MacDonell is a man wounded in body and soul, driven by guilt. When he rescues Iseabail from one of his men, he cannot deny the attraction he feels for her, despite the wound that left him unable to act on it. In the hope of finding redemption for his sins, he agrees to help Iseabail…but will his feelings for her prove to be the ultimate obstacle to his salvation?

Now the Eggcerpt:

“It was quite an adventure,” Calum chirped. “Then they called after me ’thief, thief’ and chased me when I took off on Seumas’s horse.”

Seumas smiled at Calum. “You did fine, lad.”

Calum came to stand beside the man, rubbing the long ears of his pet. ” Did you give her the herbs?”

“Nae, I didn’t need them.” Seumas pierced Iseabail with his look. “I was able to get the fever down by other means.”

Calum frowned and looked between them. “How?”

“I took her to the river.”

“Oh.” Calum nodded, satisfied with the answer. “I will go out and find some food for my rabbit, if you think it safe.”

“Do not go far, lad. There is plenty near here that vermin can eat.”

Iseabail shifted in his arms. “Can you put me down now?”

He did not answer, nor did he comply. Instead, he inched his hand up her neck and started working little circles into her skin. She fought the desire to close her eyes. It felt so good.”

“Do ye not want to know how I got your fever down?”

“You said you brought me to the river.”

He held her gaze then pulled her toward him, and she knew he was going to kiss her. His lips were warm, and the lightning surged through her again. He kissed her lightly at first then more urgently. She wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer.

He straightened abruptly then placed her on her cloak. “Ye should get some sleep.”

Monday, March 24, 2014

My Italian vampire romance, A BLOODY GOOD CRUISE, is now on sale for Kindle and in paperback. Take a bite out of it below:

A BLOODY GOOD CRUISE is a fun-filled blend of the vampire world and luxury cruises.

Romance writer Mona Rossi's book sales are slipping. She needs new ideas and fast! Her vampire love, Fausto Silvius is a doctor aboard the Romanza, a luxury cruise ship. Holding a "Motion on the Ocean" writer's cruise sounds like a great idea. What better way to combine a career boost with romance? But they soon discover hunters on board who give chase to Fausto and his fellow vampires. While he longs to bring Mona into his world, how can he convince her to join him with fringe lunatics on the hunt? In the prime of her life she's not sticking her neck out for a shot at eternity.

Excerpt:

Mona forced a dose of cheer through her jangly nerves. Vampire hunters wouldn’t have the balls to attack Fausto and his friends on this ship. Security was tight. “Well, you’re here, so does that mean you’ve been going out, and aren’t confined to your house any more?”

Fausto shrugged. “Almost. I couldn’t wallow in self-pity forever. And I knew seeing you would make it worthwhile.”

She smiled and gave him a genuine Italian cheek pinch. “I’ll cheer you up, faccia bella, you can count on that. You must feel safe.” She gestured at the tacky duds. “I mean, relatively speaking.”
\

“Don’t let this scare you, but –” He glanced around over the rims of his shades. Uh-oh. Whenever he said “don’t let this scare you,” it scared her. “I got an ominous message at the doctor's office earlier.”

“What?” She swallowed a lump. “What kind of ominous message?”

He looked away, shaking his head. “Nothing to get alarmed about. The hunters just want me to know they’re here. After the initial jolt wore off, I said, ‘okay, I’m being stalked again.’ But I’m used to it. It doesn’t make me constantly look over my shoulder like in the old days. My family’s murder gave me a reality check. If they want me, they’ll get me. I can’t let it interfere with my work, or what little leisure time I have here. And you shouldn’t either.” He gazed at her adoringly and cupped her cheek. His hand was surprisingly warm. “But you’re still scared. All the blood’s drained out of your face, and not in a good way.”

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Today I'm turning the blog over to Elaine Violette to share her love of historical romance and tell us about her upcoming release, A Kiss of Promise. I love that cover!

Welcome, Elaine!

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What I love about historical romance…

Writing
historical romance has come very natural to me since it has always been
my favorite genre to read. Although historical romance authors create
their plots and characters, I appreciate their research into the history
of English peerage, dress, customs, architecture, foods, dating
rituals, etc. Historical romance must not only include a delicious
romance but care must be taken for time period accuracy. Before an
author can take off into flights of fancy by adding a spirit, a vampire,
even a time traveler to their plot, he or she must be well-versed in
historical fact to make the story believable.

Hmm, spirits, now
that would lead me into a discussion of the manuscript I am presently
working on… Today, I’d like to tell you more about my newest historical
romance, A Kiss of Promise, to be released on April 3rd, 2014, and available now for pre-order on Amazon and other major sites.

Romance and Betrayal in A Kiss of Promise
In A Kiss of Promise,
my characters venture to America from England. Martin and Alaina have a
past history as children of the peerage. They meet under tragic
circumstances and their attraction to each other cannot be denied.
Because of their wounded pasts, both need healing before their romance
can develop. Martin chooses adventure in America over commitment; Alaina
arrives in America under duress. A conniving villain demands her
cooperation to close a lucrative business deal her father left
unfinished before his death. She must present herself as his fiancée in
Boston or see her brother, Richard, suffer the consequences. Only
Martin, who left her behind in England with only a kiss of promise, can
save her from ruin. She may need his help to rescue her, but she
doesn’t need to accept a proposal out of pity.

I enjoyed delving into Boston history as Martin desperately searches for Alaina when he
discovers her plight. From the elegance of the English ballroom to a Boston brothel, both take fear-filled journeys before they meet again to deal with their turbulent relationship. No easy trip to a happy-ever after ending!

Other works
I should mention York Blackstone, Martin’s older brother whose story is told in my debut Regency novel, Regal Reward. In Regal Reward, the Blackstone brothers struggle to clear their father’s name after he
is framed for treason, arrested, stripped of his titles, and thrown into prison to die. The Blackstone brothers are tossed to the streets to survive as beggars and thieves. York Blackstone fights to reclaim his father’s title, his family’s honor, and win Marielle who has been claimed by the son of his father’s accuser. Though Martin and Alaina meet in Regal Reward, their story is saved for A Kiss of Promise.

In my second Regency historical, A Convenient Pretense, I had fun including my love of writing poetry. For Emily Grace,

A grand bouquet would never please Or words of flattery appease…

Emily prefers to remain single and write poetry. Her mother’s bitterness over marriage has left Emily disbelieving of wedded bliss. Marcus Deming, an earl, who must marry eventually, is in no hurry to be leg shackled.
When the two devise a plan to avoid their aunts’ marital meddling, they never expect it to lead them into a more devious pretense that must be discovered before it leads to tragedy for Emily and her family.

Author Elaine Violette

A little more about my background.
I am a veteran high school English teacher with a BS in English Education from the University of CT and an MS in Educational Leadership from Central CT State University. I presently teach public speaking part time at a local community college. I am a member of Romance Writers of America, CT Romance Writers (CTRWA) and Charter Oak Romance writers (CORW). I love life on the Connecticut shoreline with my golfing husband, Drew, and delight in being a wife, mother, and grandmother to six beautiful grandchildren.

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Olivia Owen, a busy, single, high-functioning, corporate executive officer, is not afraid to die a spinster for the sake of her career. But in an alternate reality world, bridged by the angel of her Down’s syndrome sister, she meets Tom Medar, a dedicated, Croatian defense attorney who dreams of the right woman, but never has time to find her. Together they foil an adulterous murder plot while discovering there’s room for love and family in their busy lives—but not before they are separated again.

When they awaken from their alternate world, will they be able to cross countries to find each other again?

Paranormal
Sensuality Level: Sensual

“In Love Remains, Ms. Jelic has once again written a highly imaginative paranormal romance with believable characters who are both flawed and compassionate and a plot that will keep you guessing until the end.” — Debbie Christiana, author of Twin Flames and Solstice.

“Zrinka Jelic has achieved a high level of success with her time-travel story, Love Remains. Olivia had a difficult job, chopping employees’ heads, and then to travel to another dimension where she had a husband and children was felling. However, as with any Jelic story, the romance is strong and I was happy to travel with Tom and Olivia. At the end of life isn’t that what we seek—the warmth of love?” — jj Keller, Trade Agreement, LASR Best Book

Excerpt:

Keys in her hand, she took the two steps to the front door. She had left a few lights on,but the smell of home cooking wafting in the air stood her hair on end. Who the hell was in her house? Heart drumming, she gripped her cell just in case she needed to make a fast call for the police, then she crept through the foyer toward the kitchen. The candlelit table set for two in the dining room indicated whoever was here expected a romantic evening.

His back to her, a man stirred a pot on the stove. His tight butt swayed to an Elvis classic coming from the stereo. Had she made a date prior to her trip but forgot to cancel it? Impossible, she wouldn’t pass up on such a handsome man. Despite her dry mouth, Olivia swallowed. Whatever food the hunk was preparing on the stove smelled delicious. The frills on his apron swirled around him as he turned to her with a smile that would have melted ice caps. Light from the ceiling reflected on his wavy brown hair. “Hi, honey. I was beginning to worry.” He stepped to her, leaned down and pecked her cheek with an odd familiarity. “Your trip must’ve been exhausting. I’m sorry the flight was overbooked, but at least the airline found you a seat in coach.”

She wiped her cheek where his kiss still simmered on her skin. Rubbing his palms together, he turned to the stove. “Hope you’re hungry. I made your favorite, ravioli á la moi. I just have to pop garlic bread in, but that won’t take too long. So go get comfortable.”

Frozen, she stared. His eyebrows furrowed. “I should have picked you up from the airport. Next time, I won’t let you talk me out of it.”

Her legs refused to co-operate. She couldn’t get them to move, but she managed a sharp breath. “Who are you?”

The hunk’s thick eyebrows drew closer and he cast her a puzzled glance. “Are you all right?”

She flipped the phone clutched in her hand and dialed. “I’m calling the police.”

“Olivia?” He straightened. An insecure laugh crossed his lips. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?” The voice came through the cell.

Her dry lips scraped her tongue like sandpaper across weather-beaten wood. “There’s an intruder in my home.”

“Ma’am, is the intruder aware of your presence?”

She leveled her gaze with the man’s face and met his warm honey eyes. “Yes.”

Monday, March 17, 2014

For St. Patrick's Day, I invited author Lori Herter to share her story of seeing a Fairy Tree in an Irish graveyard and an excerpt from her women's fiction novel, The Thin Place, set in the same area. Welcome, Lori, and Happy St. Paddy's Day!

The Thin Place and the Fairy Tree
by Lori Herter

I’ve always loved the mystical aspect of Ireland, the Irish fairy lore, the island’s lush greenery and frequent rainbows. Several years ago, my husband and I discovered tiny, hidden away Caldragh Graveyard on Boa Island in Lower Lough Erne, County Fermanagh, Northern Ireland. A prehistoric pagan stone is located there, with a face carved on either side of it. It’s the mysterious stone that draws most visitors to the ancient cemetery, where it sits amidst tall green grass, thick bushes and trees, and many broken headstones. After our first visit, I began to get ideas for my book, THE THIN PLACE. In Ireland, a “thin place” is a spot where the veil between our world and the Celtic Otherworld, where fairies dwell, is very thin.

I’d heard Irish folklore about fairy trees. As I began work on my book, I decided it might be fun if I set a fairy tree in the graveyard. I also invented the idea that my character, Maeve, who believes she’s part fairy, would come and go to the graveyard by rowboat, since the cemetery is on an island in a lake. By our next visit to Ireland, I’d learned that fairy trees are usually whitethorn trees that have many small blossoms in spring. When we returned to the graveyard, I quickly noticed a tree full of white blossoms, a tree I hadn’t paid any attention to the year before because it wasn’t in bloom. My husband and I looked closely at its branches and saw pieces of cloth, a necklace, ribbons, etc., that people had left on the tree. A white quartz stone was tucked between the tree’s roots. Clearly locals looked upon it as a fairy tree. Nearby I noticed a barely visible path between tall blades of grass outside the graveyard’s metal fence. My husband hopped over the fence and walked down the path, disappearing from view in the dense foliage. He called back to me and said, “There’s a rowboat tied up here!” He took a photo to show me. So the story elements that I thought I’d invented turned out to be true! I have to say it spooked me a little. Perhaps the fairies had put the ideas in my head? After all, it IS a thin place!

Then something even more surprising happened. At the graveyard, I’d
left a quarter by the fairy tree, as a token of respect, and left
another one at the pagan stone, where previous visitors had left Irish
coins. I followed this local tradition with tongue-in-cheek amusement.
When we drove back to our hotel, The Manor House on Lower Lough Erne,
and parked in the gravel parking lot, I noticed something shiny near the
back tire as I got out of the car. I looked closer and saw several
American coins, quarters and dimes, lying on the gravel. We hadn’t run
into any other American tourists at the hotel. We checked our own money
and hadn’t lost any. Were the fairies acknowledging my gift at the
fairy tree? Even my husband, a sceptic of anything supernatural,
remarked on the coincidence. When I got back to writing THE THIN PLACE,
I included a similar scene. Didn’t want to ignore any idea the fairies
had given me! THE THIN PLACE has turned out to be one of my very
favorite books I’ve written, and perhaps I have The Good People to thank
for that.

The Thin Place by Lori Herter

Blurb:

Travel writer Glenna Molloy flies to Ireland to explore sacred places cherished by her past love, Finn Maguire. After encountering Maeve, who claims fairy heritage, Finn appears, an old deception is revealed, and Glenna must fight for happiness. Will the Emerald Isle’s magic heal what time and secrets have swept away?

Excerpt:

Careful how he stepped on the uneven ground, Finn approached the whitethorn tree, its many branches frothy with little white flowers. He walked around the tree three times, bending his head to avoid the lower branches where they came close to the rusting metal fence.

The sun had come out. He took off his comfortable old tweed jacket, folded it, and set it on the grass under the tree, next to the fist-sized quartz rock that someone had pushed between outcropping roots. He sat on the jacket and leaned back against the trunk, feeling the cool breeze on his blue shirtsleeves.

He tilted his chin to gaze up into the tree. The dense canopy formed a shelter composed of numerous jutting branches with rough bark and bare, clinging vines, all twisting into a maze of thousands of small green leaves mixed with snowy flowers. As he looked more closely, he began to discern objects. He spotted a bird’s nest, a unicorn necklace someone had hung from a twig, and long thin ribbons, pink and blue, tied next to each other hanging from a branch. A small handmade ceramic cup with pagan symbols sat tucked into a crevice. A bracelet of intertwining knots, with a bead on which was painted the Celtic spiral, circled a low branch.

It felt good to return to a place where nothing much had changed. The graveyard looked the same as when he’d first been brought here as a child by his parents.

He opened his palm and studied the quarter again. Maybe leaving America had been the right thing to do at the time. But the decision hadn’t turned out for the best. Or, perhaps he never should have gone to California in the first place. He wouldn’t have met his one great love there, his lost soul mate. He’d sorely missed her ever since. Her absence had left a hole in his life. Somehow this shiny quarter brought her back to him, as if she were very near.

Tiny flower petals floated down in the breeze like fairy dust over him, and he began to feel drowsy. Funny thing, but at night he couldn’t sleep. Too much on his mind. Yet here in this peaceful place surrounded by birdsong, he thought he could sleep forever….

# # #

Something woke him, a sound, a feeling. He opened his eyes and realized it must be evening. The sky was light, but the sun had sunk below the treetops. He’d slept for hours.

And then he saw her. A young woman, no older than twenty, stood a dozen feet away staring at him. Her thick, waist-length hair was black, black as her long silky skirt that wafted in the breeze. She clutched a red shawl around her shoulders, covering a blouse. He could see the white sleeves billowing beneath the shawl’s long fringe. The name Leananshee came unbidden to his mind, the dangerously enchanting fairy muse of Irish folklore. He’d never quite believed there were such creatures. But then he’d never been alone under a fairy tree as twilight approached.

……………………………………………….

Bio:

Lori Herter grew up in the suburbs of Chicago, graduated from the University of Illinois, Chicago Campus, and worked for several years at the Chicago Association of Commerce & Industry. She married her husband, Jerry, a CPA, and they moved to Southern California a few decades ago. They have traveled extensively in the U.S., Canada, Europe, New Zealand, Australia, and Tahiti. Lori’s favorite destination of all is Ireland. Over several trips she has visited both Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland. Delving into Celtic legends and Celtic Spirituality has been a special interest of Lori’s in recent years.

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Today I welcome author Kim Headlee with an "eggcerpt" from her fantasy romance:

Dawnflight
by Kim Headlee

Gyan is a Caledonian chieftainess by birth, a warrior and leader of warriors by training, and she is betrothed to Urien, a son of her clan’s deadliest enemy, by right of Arthur the Pendragon’s conquest of her people. For the sake of peace, Gyan is willing to sacrifice everything...perhaps even her very life, if her foreboding about Urien proves true.

Roman by his father, Brytoni by his mother, and denied hereditary rulership of his clan because of his mixed blood, Arthur is the supreme commander of the northern Brytoni army. The Caledonians, Scots, Saxons, and Angles keep him too busy to dwell upon his loneliness...most of the time.

When Gyan and Arthur meet, each recognize within the other their soul’s mate. The treaty has preserved Gyan’s ancient right to marry any man—but Arthur does not qualify. And the ambitious Urien, Arthur’s greatest political rival, shall not be so easily denied. If Gyan and Arthur cannot prevent Urien from plunging the Caledonians and Brytons back into war, their love will be doomed to remain unfulfilled forever.

Eggcerpt:

Gyan let Arthur initiate the attack. While advancing to meet the blow, she stumbled, fell, and rolled to her stomach. As expected, he quickly moved in to claim the victory. The crowd cheered. But before she could feel the prickle of his sword on her neck, she twisted aside and hooked his legs with hers. Luck favored her; with a startled yelp, and equally startled noises from their audience, he went down. She scrambled to her feet and pinned him under the point of her sword. Amid the overall roar of disappointment, she could pick out phrases like “Trickery!” and “Not fair!” But the taunts didn’t bother her; victory had never tasted sweeter! Her only regret was that Ogryvan and Per and the rest of her clan couldn’t savor it with her.

Studying Arthur for a reaction, her grin soured. For several seconds, he stared at the sky as though stunned; whether physically or mentally, she couldn’t tell. Her concern rose as she wondered if she had injured him. Finally, he shook his head and attempted to sit up, but her sword barred his way.

“I concede the match, Chieftainess.” He released his sword and waved his open hand. “I won’t try anything unique. You have my word. Thank God my enemies aren’t half as devious as you are.” His grin could have stopped the sun in its course…and it was having an arresting effect on Gyan’s heart as well. “But I wouldn’t advise using that move in battle. Much too risky.”

“Oh. Yes, I—I know.” Chiding herself for how silly she must sound, she sheathed her sword and thrust out her hand. He tugged off his gloves and accepted her unspoken offer, gripped her forearm, and hauled himself up.

Pain stabbing her arm forced a strangled gasp from her throat. He shifted his grip to her hand and gently turned her arm to expose the underside. A long cut lay perilously close to one of the veins, seeping blood. He traced the vein lightly with a fingertip.

“When did I do this?” His voice was a hoarse whisper.

Staring at the cut, she wondered the same thing. Probably during their initial clash, though she really had no idea. She shrugged. Even that motion made her wince.

“Chieftainess, I didn’t mean to—” A stricken look shattered his bearing. He squeezed her hand. “God in heaven, Gyanhumara, I am so sorry.”

She wanted to reassure him that she’d be all right; the wound looked clean and wasn’t much deeper than a scratch. In fact, it was the least of her concerns. Enchanted by the sound of her name on his lips and mesmerized by his gaze, she felt the world seem to collapse to just the two of them. His face hovered over hers, his lips a handspan away. The warmth of his nearness had an intoxicating effect. She was acutely conscious of the tugging of her heart, as though it was trying to pull her closer to him. It wasn’t an unwelcome idea.

Until March 20th, enter the Goodreads giveaway for 1 of 10 signed print copies of Dawnflight.

Monday, March 10, 2014

Today I'm turning the blog over to author Anita Philmar to share an Eggcerpt from her hot Western historical romance, In Too Deep and you can find me at Anita's blog instead.

Blurb:

On the banks of the Trinity River, Sadie Pepperman is looking for a chance to escape the demands of her in-laws. With her husband’s dead, they want her to marry her brother-in-law so they can take control of her farm.

Suddenly, the peace of the day is shattered when her best friend steps too far into the river. Rushing to save her, Sadie meets a handsome stranger that ignites her dormant lust. She sees her friend rescued by a steamship and backs away from Logan Jansen, only to turn her ankle.

The agonizing pain leaves Sadie with the inability to walk. Needing help, she offers Logan a place to stay if he’ll help with the chores on her farm. With his agreement, Sadie adds another problem to her list. Now, not only does she have to worry about how to bring her crops in from the field and run her farm alone but she also has to fight her attraction to Logan.

Can Sadie end her in-laws’ interference in her life, run her farm alone, and give love another chance?

Now for the Eggcerpt:

“Are you a friend of the woman who is drowning?”

Unable to certain what to say to the stranger, she nodded and worked to clear the lump in her throat. How did this man know about Carolyn?

“Move over. I’ll drive. If we hurry I should be able to save her and my friend.” He placed a foot on the side step of the wagon and crowded onto the bench.

She quickly scooted along the wooden plank, allowing him room to settle beside her. Long fingers closed over the reins and he tugged the leather from her grip.

He didn’t wait for an answer. Lifting the reins, he released the brake.

A loud whistle sounded from the river, followed almost immediately by the slapping of paddles against the water.

The man clicked his tongue to encourage Beauty to get moving. He drove the wagon closer to the edge of the river, creating a rough new trail.

Bouncing on the seat like a rag doll, Sadie tried to keep her distance from the man, even though the task was next to impossible with the constant swaying of the wagon. She continually brushed against his arm, shoulder and thigh. A particularly hard bump almost landed in his lap.

“I’m sorry, but you need to slow down,” she complained and straightened.

He drew back on the reins; the wagon rolled to a stop. His head turned in the other direction. He shifted away from her and jumped down from the wagon before she repositioned herself on the bench. “Damn that steamship. They’re rescuing them.”

A little stunned by everything that had happened, Sadie lifted a hand to her throat. Her gaze stayed locked on Logan until his comment finally registered. She glanced at the water and noticed a steamboat cruising down-river. A line hung from the side with two people hanging from the end.

She scrambled off the wagon to keep the boat in sight as it moved farther away. “Oh, no, where will it take them?”

“Probably to the next port, maybe Liberty or on into Galveston.” When the steamboat rounded a bend and drifted out of sight, the stranger turned. His gaze grew in intensity as he scanned the length of her body. “I’m Logan by the way.”

Burned by his steady regard, Sadie glanced down at her attire. Heat stained her cheeks. The ribbon on her camisole had worked its way loose and the swell of her breasts lay exposed to his view. She’d been about to redress when Carolyn fell into the river. Lifting her hands automatically to cover herself, she bowed her head.

Friday, March 7, 2014

In the spirit-haunted Winston estate in Ohio, rooted in time and occupied by the lingering ghosts of a great family, the torch is about to pass...

Mattie Winston, sober, sensible, and steady, has served as Keeper to the family for decades. Amber Harrison, hovering on the edge of flunking out of college, unsure what she wants out of life, has barely even heard of the Winston estate. The family, however, has decided that it's time for the changing of the guard. These two exceptional women soon find themselves dealing with violence, murder attempts, and old family mysteries while each finding the love of her life. Two romances and a growing friendship, all twined around a brooding family tragedy, make for an outstanding paranormal mystery offering depth and charm beyond the commonplace. The growing love of Amber and Carter and of Mattie and Quincy offer readers a tender and engaging first novel in a winning new paranormal series.

Now the Eggcerpt:

“Trust us child to find a soul who will honor your position. Nothing will remove your fears until you can reclaim your life’s mission and enjoy the rest of your days on earth.”

“But what if Amber doesn’t like it here? She’s a young college student from sunny California. Why would she move to Ohio where it’s cold? Even in the summer, we don’t have beautiful weather. The rain can last for days.”

“There is no dispute,” Jonathan growled. “Amber is a Winston. She longs to live here.”

“But you don’t get it. There’s no guarantee. Josh has lived here all his life. He’ll do a good job.” Mattie wished Jonathan could see her point. Things might not turn out like he’d planned.

“Besides Cynthia will be deeply hurt when she finds out everything is under the control of a stranger instead of her son. She won’t understand.”

“The Council’s point exactly. Cynthia cares only for gold, not for others. It’s best for the family to have someone else as the keeper.”

The havoc this decision would cause in Mattie’s life washed bitter bile through her mouth. She swallowed, hard.

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Claire Conner was raised by parents who were in the inner circles of the John Birch Society. This is the story of her lifelong acquaintance with the psychology of the radical right. She wrote the book after seeing the rise of the Tea Party movement in 2010, which sounded all too familiar to her.

Though her parents tried hard to indoctrinate her, she had a mind of her own and was open to new ideas. Her parents were conservative Catholics who insisted their children attend only Catholic schools, which were often too liberal for the parents's comfort. Claire was mortified by her mother's numerous trips to the school office to complain about the curriculum. A sympathetic lay teacher gave Claire "plain wrap" books to read. (She literally had a shelf of books with plain brown wrappers on them, so Claire never knew what the book was until she opened it.) One was Black Like Me, which opened her eyes to the way racism operated in the Deep South. In the end, Claire went from devout Catholic to liberal Unitarian. (The pedophile priest scandal was the final straw.) I don't think her parents ever forgave her for abandoning the Church.

The book is well-written, informative and I had a lot of sympathy for Claire and her siblings. It can't have been easy to be raised by narrow-minded, paranoid conspiracy theorists, esp. since they were also controlling as well as emotionally and physically abusive.

I remember the Birch Society being derided as nutty extremists, and nothing she said here made it seem otherwise. The founder and long-time leader, Robert Welch, had some very strange ideas, as well as a lot of the common prejudices of the early 20th c. He was both bigoted and anti-semitic (as were Claire's parents) and saw a Communist behind every bush. A Southerner by birth, Welch was also a racist. Some of his wilder theories made me laugh, since they defy all internal logic and show an astonishing ignorance of history and economics. Welch thought Roosevelt, Truman, Kennedy & LBJ were all pro-Communist. Huh? His other big bugaboo was the much-feared New World Order, which was somehow being fomented by Communists and Jewish bankers! Because we all know how well those two groups have gotten along, historically speaking. The only thing that ever seemed to throw them was Reagan winning the presidency (to their delight) then turning out not to be quite as conservative as expected.

Overall, Wrapped in the Flag is a fascinating yet disturbing look at the radical right and their commitment, dedication and relentlessness. And now, thanks to the Supreme Court's Citizens United decision, they are allowed to spend more money than ever before on candidates and political activism. I admire the author's courage and honesty in exposing her life to public scrutiny, but I was a little discouraged when I finished it, though I think the book well worth reading.

Sunday, March 2, 2014

Read An E-Book Week is an annual March event that I'm happy to participate in. I started reading e-books way back in 1999, when the computer was the only option. Those early e-books were in PDF or HTML format, and there were no bookmarks. I used to keep a post-it glued to my laptop where I could not what page I'd stopped on. Since then I've graduated to dedicated e-book readers, like the RCA Gemstar and the Amazon Kindle. Now I do most of my reading on an iPad 1 and I still love it.

Smashwords is having their annual promotion where many e-books are deeply discounted or offered for free, including my sweet Regency romance, Lady Elinor's Escape.

Blurb:

Lady Elinor Ashworth always longed for adventure, but when she runs away from her abusive aunt, she finds more than she bargained for. Elinor fears her aunt who is irrational and dangerous, threatening Elinor and anyone she associates with. When she encounters an inquisitive gentleman, she accepts his help, but fearing for his safety, hides her identity by pretending to be a seamstress. She resists his every attempt to draw her out, all the while fighting her attraction to him.

There are too many women in barrister Stephen Chaplin’s life, but he has never been able to turn his back on a damsel in distress. The younger son of a baronet is a ‘rescuer’ of troubled females, an unusual vocation fueled guilt over his failure to save the woman he loved from her brutal husband. He cannot help falling in love with his secretive seamstress, but to his dismay, the truth of her background reveals Stephen as the ineligible party.